Correspondence
by Vivvian
Summary: Completed oneshot Jackson writes a letter regarding some professional history.apologies for having to resubmit  some further editing was required


Correspondence

By Vivvian

It's been a long time. Glad you wrote. The last time we talked on the phone you were wanting to hear about how I got "started". I mentioned that guy I shot when I was 19. We got cut off, thought you might like to hear the details. The bastard cost me ten grand and then some. He was wanted - $50,000 live and only $40,000 dead - on federal racketeering charges. How'd you guess I wasn't collecting him for the Feds? The people I was contracting with at the time couldn't let him spill his guts seeing as he had unfinished business with them.

I was young and we had stopped at a McDonalds. Yeah, one of the many reasons McDonalds pisses me off. We were eating burgers and fries and he started to choke. I did the Heimlich on him - normally I wouldn't have necessarily put myself out for a bounty like that, interrupting my lunch for fuck's sake - but all I could think about was him buying it in that fucking MickeyDs and costing me $10,000 (plus the cost of lunches, asshole). So, he coughs it up - sure, it didn't look that different coming out of him than it had going in. Another reason McDonalds is a shit hole – everything's pre-digested there. We had drawn a crowd which is what he wanted. He pretended like he was gonna throw-up (puking's common after the Heimlich) and got down on his knees in the little crowd and then lurched like a maniac. He was slipping and sliding across the newly mopped floor, tripping over the yellow Wet Floor sign and banging out the back exit door before I knew what the fuck. The McDonalds' manager looked at me and said, "Guess your buddy's feeling better." Sure, Einstein. Sure.

I got outta there and was rightously pissed - at him, at myself, at fucking McDonalds. I was headed for the car when something caught my eye. He was crammed in the back of a Yugo in the drive-thru line. I shit you not. He was one of those super-smart tax attorney types without a lick of common sense. I headed over there - the Yugo moving away from me as it crept forward in line. I don't know what he had told those people to get into the back of their shitbox, probably doesn't matter…they were the types to be in a fucking Yugo. Don't know about you, but I'd rather take the fucking bus then ride in a Yugo. I caught up and my bounty was pretending not to see me. I smacked the hatch and dragged him out - the two people up front staring back at me...I had the funniest thought that they were thinking _WOAH! __DUDE__! Everybody digs our car and wants to ride with us! These guys are fighting to get into our YUGO_!

I started to laugh as my bounty slammed to the pavement. I was still laughing as I looked down at him and the Yugo inched up in line. The car behind us honked – drive-thru was wrapped; I didn't blame that driver one bit. I pointed at my guy on the ground and told him "Motherfucker, you want to run - RUN; consider this your head start." He scrabbled away and I headed to the driver side, shoved a fifty at the idiot driving and started following my paycheck. He was in dress shoes and having a hard go of it on the asphalt. He was headed for the Shell station in the next lot over.

I heard this voice, "Hey, man..." I turned around and the Yugo driver was waving my fifty at me. I got no idea why I answered 'cept the whole fucking thing was funny. Wish you could have seen it - it was really fucking great. What a fuck up from the word Go. I answered, "What?" and he says, "No place around here takes fifties...you got change?" I couldn't believe what the fuck I was hearing. I took a look at my bounty. He was slipping up the grass slope between the two businesses. "Sure, man, I got change." I got all fucking day AND I got change. I headed back to the line, opening my wallet, "Will two twenties and a ten work for you?" The fucker says, "You have any fives?" What the fuck is the world coming to when a pay off asks you for _small change_? I checked on my bounty, he was still trying to defy gravity with his frictionless shoes on that slope – you woulda thought the poor bastard was scaling Everest for the effort he was putting in. I grinned and said "Sure! Gimme my fifty back." I ended up making change for this guy in ones, fives and a ten. Got that wrapped up and by then, my bounty had clawed his way to the top of that embankment and the Yugo was almost up to the speaker. I thought about ordering a shake - those are good from there - but had to get back to work.

I walked around the Yugo and strode across the parking lot. My bounty felt me coming after him - that happens sometimes. He stopped at the top of that rise and turned towards me. Everything that was funny faded. Everything that was fucked up grew glaringly bright. Everything that I could never have, would never have, stood there hollering at me that he had made a mistake - a big mistake and didn't I know what that felt like? He was about fifty yards away from me and screaming. He was losing his fucking mind. The drive-thru line had stopped behind me. Semi drivers were leaning out of their windows at the Shell station, pushing their hats back - shaking their heads at this stupid motherfucker. My bounty dissolved there like a kid - crying, stomping his feet, flailing. He was so loud.

I hated him for being loud and obnoxious and in my way of earning my living and going about my business, getting back home. I had closed the distance to about thirty-five yards. I stood there watching him. I remember a lady trying to pull from her space and getting all bitchy out her window. I looked at her and said "just a fucking minute"; she shut up but laid on her horn. Just hit it and kept it pressed. Couldn't blame her. She'd had her predigested food and was ready to go home for a shit and a nap, I'm fucking sure.

My bounty was sucking wind up there above me. The horn was louder than him. He smiled at me. I remember that smile because there was some relief there - relief that maybe he had gotten through to me, relief that the horn was drowning him out so he might as well shut up. I smiled back. I hated him then for being such a pussy - you gonna shout and make a scene don't let a cunt on a Celica horn get the best of you. I'd had enough. I reached inside my jacket (yeah, it was back in the day, I was wearing a jeans jacket - fucking awful taste, fucking _awful_ - sorry to have to admit that), unsnapped my pistol from my shoulder holster, took it out, slipped the safety off, racked it and shot him in the chest. The gun's report rang off the buildings and the cars -cutting through the horn noise. He was very surprised and screamed as he rolled down the hill and landed on the bitch's hood. She let off the horn and she was screaming. It was a series of loud noises each taking over for the last - like a weird round of Row Row Your Boat.

I replaced the safety latch with my thumb, bent and grabbed the shell casing. I got over to the Celica - bitch snapped her mouth shut fast. I grabbed the bleeding cocksucker off the hood. He was gurgly, not quite dead. I told the woman, she could back out now but she'd probably want to wait for the cops to give her report..._or not_...whatever. I hauled him to my car and shoved him in the backseat. Got in and got us out of that parking lot. I saw the Celica not far behind me, watched it turn off. Good thing. I woulda come back for that bitch later had she made a different choice and waited for the cops. I ditched the car at a used car dealership, got myself some new wheels, transferred fuckface (really dead by that point) - paid good money for silence all around. Got my bounty to his destination, collected my cash minus the death penalty.

Yeah. So there's that – the first guy I had to make permanent. Glad to tell you that.

More than that though. Glad to hear from you. Glad to know the hard feelings are waning a bit. We'll see how it turns out. I might be able to get your way one of these days. We can talk again. I've seen you in photos, news footage. The Larry King spot was a bit much – is he as fucking old looking in person as he appears on tv? Jesus. Talking (cadaver) Head, if there ever was one.

Heard about your hire by the Homeland Security Orifice (heh). That's all very nice for you. Comfortable. Sorry you lost your boss so soon after he hired you. Bosses come and go in that business. You get this by now, I'm sure. Remember…my job offer still stands. No self-help books or cultural sensitivity courses required. Keep it in mind, Leese. It's not bad work, when you can get it – pay's good, you meet the damndest people, and more frequent flyer miles than you know what to do with.


End file.
